


24 hours

by younoknowme93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Oneshot, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-War, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younoknowme93/pseuds/younoknowme93
Summary: The war is over and Severus has reached a decision.  Minerva cannot talk him out of it, but she's able to convince him to wait twenty-four hours.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 25
Kudos: 171





	24 hours

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this story for a while now. If you are sensitive to depression or mentions of suicide then please back out now, for the rest of you, onward my ducklings.

“You loved my mom.” The words are said in disbelief, but how could I not. How could a drowning man not love the one who threw the life preserver. If a blind man’s first sight was that of the aurora borealis, would he not too fall in love?

This hospital bed might as well be a coffin. The ivy colored eyes strangle me with their sincerity. He wants answers and I’m not at all surprised that the only reason I’m alive now and not rotting in Azkaban is because this boy is shielding me. Even as aurors wait in the wings for me to slip and warrant immediate execution, _his_ guards are down. Silently begging me for answers to questions he doesn’t know how to ask.

“I love her with all my being, and have since we were children.” He looks at his feet, not sure of what to say next. 

“Did she know?”

“Perhaps. Though I assure you, she never held any such interest in me.” Even admitting that aloud stings. She was fond of me- sure. But her interest in me never stretched beyond platonic. 

I was grateful even for that.

“Why?” The question should ignite my anger. If this were even a day before I would bite a comment at him, and perhaps berate him for asking something so personal. I would question if he were simply trying to torture me, but I’ve found that I’m simply tired.

I’m to tired to raise my voice- and I doubt I’d be able to with my injured throat. 

“Who in their right mind would choose a life of bitter anger over the brightness of day. I was an angry child, and though she pitied me enough for friendship, she held enough self-preservation to not shackle herself to a life of unhappiness.” Perhaps that’s why I never begrudged her a life with another. She wouldn’t have been happy with me. 

No one ever has been.

Of all the ones she chose though, James Potter. Even now I detest him. Even now I can’t bring myself to accept that it was him. She fell in love with a man that hated me so profoundly. But I had seen the writing on the wall. Of course she would choose him! He was charming. Handsome. If not rich than certainly well off. 

And I-just as I’ve always been- was awkward, unpleasantly nasty, and poor enough to see a loaf of bread as a feast. 

I could not have given her a life of happiness.

“But you were friends. Why would she choose someone that… was awful to you?” 

“Love makes a person do awful things.” I say the words like a mantra. 

Love makes a woman willing to choose her husband over her child. Willing to silently watch as a man strikes a toddler because he accidently levitated a cup. Willing to tearfully accept the verbal abuse. Willing to sleep with men for money to help fund her husband’s addiction to whisky. 

Willing to choose an abusive bully over a longtime friend. 

“She was very much infatuated with James Potter, and he loved her just as fiercely.” While I hid fearfully in the shadows as ‘friends’ called her mudblood and other such foul names, James Potter took on anyone that said a word against her. Putting his high-class title on the line, he would challenge anyone that dared slur her name. I- like a coward- would say nothing. She made the right decision. And really, what an awful friend I was.

“Is that why you hate me?” He truly looks like a fearful child. I have never been able to bring myself to hate Lily’s child. 

“Do not pity me Potter. I hate you because I’m an asshole. No deeper reason.” He recoils like he’s been slapped. I might as well have. He forces himself to stand straighter. “Are you satisfied now?”

“No.” but he still turns and leaves. I don’t stop him. My throat has been hurting more than I was letting on. And I’m tired of reliving. The guards stay though.

I’m told nothing. Silently medical staff tends to my injuries. On the third day, the aurors hand me my wand and tell me I’m free to leave. They say nothing else. No one else visits me while I’m in the hospital. No one else cares if I lived, died, was injured, or not.

There never was anything in this world for me.

I’m visiting your grave Lily. Of all the countless deaths that this war has claimed- yours is one that cannot leave me. I know that it was I who killed her, though it wasn’t my wand that took her life. Children have died and I played my role in this whole ordeal. I’m neither a villain- nor a hero. I’m simply…

“Severus.” I don’t stir at my name. I feel that I don’t have the right. “I would like to formally offer you back your job as potions master of Hogwarts.”

“I thank you for the offer Minnie, but I will pass.” She doesn’t leave. In fact she comes closer. She is perhaps the only one that knows. Having once been my teacher as well, she has given me many chances and leniencies that she would otherwise give no one.

“Severus, we both know that you have nowhere else to go. That muggle home is unfit for dwelling, and how would you survive without an occupation.” 

“I do not require any assistance Minnie. I’m a Slytherin- I am fully capable of surviving without your charity.” 

“Mr. Potter will be returning to complete his final year. I would appreciate having another teacher that I trust looking out for him. There could still be rogue deatheaters unhappy with the outcome of the war.” She touches my shoulder. “I would appreciate having someone in the trenches with me. If you would prefer, I would happily offer you the defense against the dark arts job as well. We have more roles than bodies to fill them. Or perhaps just a job of brewing the needed potions for the infirmary. I’m sure we will need many dreamless sleep come term.”

“Minerva, I will not be returning to Hogwarts.” She withdraws her hand and slowly backs away.

“Please Severus.” We both know she isn’t asking me to come back as a teacher. We both know what she’s really asking. “Everyone deserves a second chance, and you have long sense proven yourself. I admit that I felt betrayed by your actions. Albus hid his plans well, but I was wrong for not trusting in you. I do not care about the publicity; I know that you are a right fit for Hogwarts.” 

“I will think about it.” She exhales slowly.

“We both know you won’t.” She stands beside me quietly. My knees are buried in the damp ground. My shoulders are scooped. “She wouldn’t want you to kill yourself.”

“She also wouldn’t want her son growing up without his parents.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I am a mistake Minerva. From the moment I was born, those around me wished that I would just… die. The mistake is that I survived.”

“I’m not going to let you kill yourself.”

“You can’t stop me. I was just saying…” my final goodbye.

I wonder what will be on the other side for me. A heaven. A hell. A dark void of nothingness consuming who I once was. I hope I did enough good to warrant even a moment in heaven if such a place exists. Just a moment long enough to apologize then I will accept any fate the deities believe I deserve. I just wish to apologize. 

I stand and bow my head lightly to Minerva.

“You did your best Minnie, I wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long without you, but I’ve decided. You can’t stop me, you can’t follow me for the rest of my life. The first chance I get, I’m going to kill myself. Console yourself by knowing that you did your best to stop me.” She’s holding her wand tightly in her hand. She debating on stunning me, but she knows I’m right. She can’t follow me for the rest of my life and I’m resolved to my decision.

“Give me twenty-four hours.” She must see the confusion on my face. “Swear to me that you will not do anything in the next twenty-four hours. If I don’t have you convinced by the end, then I will stand aside, and I will not stop you.”

“What difference will twenty-four hours make?”

“Hopefully enough.” She says between her teeth. “You will give me your word. Twenty-four hours.”

“Fine. I have plans to make and debts to make even. You know where to find me.” I’ll give her, her measly twenty-four hours. A single day for a conscious-free eternity of quiet is a fair enough price. She leaves me, and I linger at her grave only a bit more. 

I have a will to finalize and a potion to brew. I had planned to be done with this whole… living thing by 3 p.m. I can push it back a few more hours.

The slouching bookcases surround me in this room. I choose the sofa over the desk even though writing would be far easier on the hard surface. My life has provided few things to leave behind. But I will sort the little I have. This bloody house is past the point of being condemned, but like me, it’s been forced to live well past it’s prime. Let some squatter find it or have the town have it torn down. If the neighbors homes were not firmly attached I would light this fucking house ablaze. 

The sun has long sense set. I have quite a few old tomes that vary in value. They will be sent off to various people that I believe will benefit from them. My vault will go to Harry Potter. Let him do as he sees fit with him. He will also receive pictures that I have horded of his mother. Pictures from my childhood. They are my treasures and have been well preserved. I even have some of her on her wedding day. I remember brewing the Polyjuice knowing that I would not be welcomed there. She pulled me aside. I forget who I was disguised as- an acquaintance of hers that I knew wouldn’t be able to make it due to a… mysterious illness that came and went quite suddenly. She pulled me aside and smiled at me. Hugged me tightly and thanked me for coming. No. She thanked whoever it was that I was charading as. For a moment though it was like my best friend was back. 

I had to go. I had to see her. I could accept her choosing someone else, but I couldn’t accept not being there on such an important day for her. She was beautiful and watching her kiss James Potter for the first time as husband and wife helped me accept that she had made the right choice. She was smiling and happy and getting every single thing she deserved in life.

This is no time to get distracted though. More important matters need to be tended to. My body.

There will not be one left. I do not want my body found, I do not want any do gooder arranging a funeral. No one would come except that same fool who though it important. Well Minerva might. Minerva and Harry Potter. I can just imagine her telling him everything I desperately want to take to the grave with me.

_I wish he would have opened up to you instead of stupidly offing himself. Try to understand Harry, Severus had a difficult life. His father was not a kind man. When I was his teacher we had to take him into protective custody. He didn’t have any friends. He was poor and awkward and_

No. No need to be paranoid now. Minerva has always taken the little I’ve told her in strictest confidence. No even telling Albus. There are things about me that only she knows. My old text books. I let her look at them years ago. She was impressed at all the notes I left in the margins. We once talked at length about the idea of me writing a text book. I scoffed at her and with more than a little malice reminded her no one would buy a book written by a killer. I told her if it meant so damn much to her she should publish it. 

Maybe she will take my notes and actually do that. Or maybe she will resent my decision and just burn them. Either way. They are hers.

You have eighteen more hours Minerva. 

I once swore I would never be anything like my father. Sometimes I wonder if I even managed that much. He was an angry, bitter, violent man.

Damn it.

No. Refocus. I do not want my body to be found. I’ve brewed a corrosive poison that will leave not even bone behind. 

My father was buried. I’ve only visited his grave twice- both times I was more than plastered. His estranged family never cared for him and so I highly doubt any of them have visited. My mother… her urn is put away as to keep her as out of my thoughts as possible. I cannot think about her without severe mixed emotions.

I wouldn’t say she was better or worse than my father- just different. She never once stuck me. She never once wanted me either. She certainly never loved me. Not that I could blame her for that. I don’t have any attachment to her ashes. I do not want even ash left behind of me. My possessions. My body. There is little else left to do and so much more time to do it. The hour of my birth is approaching, and I had wanted to be gone to not see another meaningless day. I’ll keep my promise though. 

Normally I prefer the use of quill and ink. The flowing ink always glides so beautifully on the parchment, but I’ll use more muggle methods this time. I roll the fountain pen between my fingers and relax into the words.

_~~To Whomever may read this~~ _

What’s the point in such beginnings I think while striking out the words.

_Minerva,_

_I have given you the requested time. With utmost sincerity, I thank you for the care you have shown me. I regret that I could not remain living as you asked, but I feel that my life has run it’s course._

I scratch out the short paragraph, ball up the paper and throw it to some forgotten corner before starting again.

_Minnie,_

_You were the closest thing to a mother I ever had._

No. I do not even wish to address that topic. 

_~~Potter~~ _

_~~Harry~~ _

_~~Harry Potter~~ _

_~~Mr. Potter~~ _

_That blasted boy is a completely different issue, but I have things that I was never capable of telling him that he deserves to hear. But since I cannot bring myself to say them aloud, he will have to settle for reading. It’s honestly all I can manage. I start again. It doesn’t matter how I address him, I will no longer be alive when it comes time for him to read the words._

_Harry,_

_I am not a man comfortable with vulnerability or frankly honesty. I have never thought myself a villain nor a hero as I believe most men fall somewhere in-between. Your mother was a brave and frightening individual and in many ways you are very much like her. In many ways you are very much like your father. I have done my part to protect you as well as alienate you. Being liked by you was never my intention, I wish I could say the same for the contrary. I am more comfortable being hated than liked. I have not withheld my distain for your father, but I have equally been dishonest. James Potter was in fact a bully, but he was also a child. Mistakes are a part of life, and James Potter’s distaste for me should have never influenced how I treated you. I was never a good friend to your mother, and regardless of my reasons, the reality stands that I am the one who tossed our friendship away._

_I digress. By the time you read this letter, I will have taken my own life. Minerva may go into depth as to what she believes my reasons to be, but understand that I do not have a deep underlying reason. I thank you for saving my life, but I had no intentions of surviving that night. I have been planning my death since the return of Voldemort. I tire of living. You may find in life that others expect more of you than you can possibly give. If nothing else, please accept this bit of advice, live your life for yourself. You do not owe anyone anything, and you are worth more than being the boy who lived. Take that advice as you see fit._

_The time for turmoil will never end. There will be others who will come and go with intentions for violence and hostility and bigotry. Those people exist, and will always exist deep in the shadowy parts of humanity. Do not let this destroy your belief as there will always be more out there that strive for acceptance._

_I do not hate you. Nor do I hate the rest of your goody goody Gryffindor companions. I have never wanted anything less than the safety of my students. You however were a special case. I wanted to hate you. My job would have been so much simpler if I could have hated you. At first, I convinced myself that I did._

_I knew even before I first laid eyes on you that you were abused. Tunie was always a bitch even as a young girl. She hated everything magical, and in many ways I encouraged that hatred. I was an angry child and was quick to lash out because…_

I’m going to deep into this. Even with the intent to kill myself I should not burden him with these words. This is the closest thing to a letter I’ve been able to scribble out though. I could just not leave him a letter. No. That’s not an option. He deserves the truth. Perhaps not all of the truth, but enough. This is to… personal though. I’ll just continue for now and revise after. 

_I was an angry child and was quick to lash out because I was afraid. My father was not a kind man, and he was quick to punishment. Often times his punishments took on a physical nature. Other times he would just neglect me. I knew that you were abused, but when I first saw you my stomach filled with bile. You were malnourished. I can perfectly relate to that reality. You were hesitant to eat the food in the great hall until after others had begun first. Because you were never permitted to eat with the ‘family’._

_I blame myself. Lily and I were close for a time. If I was a better human, then perhaps you would have had another option than to stay with relatives that neither loved you nor valued you. Instead, you were raised in an unfitting environment and emotionally stifled. I hated what you reminded me off. At the same time, I hated that even having lived a similar childhood- you were not angry. You were not bitter._

_You are a better man than I. I do not have many belongings. Arrangements will have been made so that every photo I have of your mother will be given to you. They stretch across many years and they very in both muggle and magical. Unfortunately, some also contain me. There is little I can do about that. I debated on simply destroying them, but thought that the choice should be yours. You have so few pictures on your mother, I did not wish to make the decision for you._

_I apologize that I was not a better friend to her. I apologize that her death is my fault. I was foolish._

I can’t do this. I cannot do this. I hear a knock on the door and check the time. I understand Minerva’s intention to keep me alive, but it’s a quarter past one. The old cat should be in bed. I hear the knock again.

“Yes Yes Minerva, Keep your fur on.” It’s not her at the door though.

“Mr. Potter. A child like you should be in bed at this hour.” I force the familiar drawl into my voice if only to hide my own panic.

“I think you and I have something to discuss.” 

“I have nothing at all to say to you. I believe you and I said enough in the hospital.” He stands his ground. He always stans his ground. Neither of his parents were the passive sort, why should I expect that he would be.

“You should invite me inside unless you want to have this discussion out here.” 

“It’s much to late for a chat. In the future, perhaps you should be more aware of yourself and not assume that everyone will make time for you.” When I go to slam the door in his face, his foot blocks it. Potter has always been an expressive child, but he’s not a child any longer, and his face is expressionless.

“Invite me inside.” I’m not sure what possess me to give in. Perhaps it’s because unlike him, I am the passive sort. I refuse to check to see if he is in fact following me. The only room suitable for guests is unfortunately the library where the letters still lay half complete. Normally I would feel shame. However, I’m tired. He takes an offered seat and after gathering up the papers and putting them out of sight, I take a seat as well. He’s quiet. He’s the bloody idiot that demanded we talk, so why isn’t he speaking. Does he expect me to start?! I have nothing to say to him… letter aside.

The silence is unsettling. Just…. Say your peace and leave. Stop staring at me. 

“Nothing you say will change my mind.”

“Excuse me?” He says incredulous. 

“Your desperate hero complex aside, I do not require saving, nor do I want to be saved.” Red dots his cheeks, and irritation taints his normally clear eyes. 

“I don’t think I’m a hero. That isn’t why I…” He shakes his head and is clearly trying to calm the irritation. 

“I don’t know what all Minerva has told you. I conceded with her request, but there will be no other extensions. You will not talk me out of my decision.” His brows furrow like he’s trying to connect dots. “Do not play stupid Mr. Potter. I’ve taught you long enough to know that you are not nearly as dense as you act. Her 24 hours is dwindling, and the moment her allotted time is gone, I will drink the potion and stop my heart. She will not talk me out of it, and her futile attempt at using Lily’s child to talk me into continuing an existence I have never wanted is both hopeless as well as insultingly manipulative.” His mouth parts into an ‘O’ shape. Again the silence between us stretches and I only feel itchy and uncomfortable. “Well! What did she instruct you to tell me! Say it so you can be on your way. I have many tasks still to do before I pass.”

“Professor Snape… I don’t think we are having the same discussion.”

“What is that?”

“Professor McGonagall didn’t send me. She doesn’t even know I’m here. When you were in the hospital, in order to clear your name, I had to gather up evidence. Some of which is memories from your private pensive here. Dumbledore told me where to find it. That’s the only reason I know where you live… I came here on my own…”

Fuck.

“Professor. You are planning to…” He doesn’t finish the statement. 

“Get out.” He flinches, but does not move. I rise to my full height and repeat louder. “Get out!” He doesn’t flinch this time. “Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.” No matter how loud I shout this mantra, he doesn’t make for the exit. Instead he’s approaching me. I will not be intimidated in my own home. When I draw my wand and point it at him he stills. “Get out of my home. You are not welcome here.” 

“You are going to end your life.” I try to calm the trembling in my hand. I did not wish to talk to this man in front of me. It was easier when he was a boy, but he’s no longer a child. 

“Mr. Potter, you are to leave. You are not permitted in my home, and you are not permitted into my life. Once again, I thank you for your part in saving me as well as absolving me of my crimes, but I held no intentions of surviving the war.” He takes a step and I step back unconsciously. “Just get out.” I say calmer. “I do not wish to have this conversation with you.”

“If I leave, I will never get another chance to speak with you.”

“Well there are those small blessings.” I say trying to lighten the situation. It doesn’t work. His mouth is a tight line of disappointment. 

“I always thought you were a brilliant man. I can’t believe you are the stupid sort that would actually consider killing themselves.” I try to ignore the sting of utter betrayal that I feel hearing those words. It doesn’t make sense though, because he owes me nothing. Not even understanding. I normally would feel rage at his words, but I don’t even have the energy for that. My insides feel cold and empty. Like they did when I drew my wand and killed another the first time. After months of dreamless sleep to quiet the pleas pounding in my head, I felt numb. I’ve felt dead for a long time now. “I’m not going to let you kill yourself.”

“You cannot stop me.” He opens his mouth then promptly shuts it. “I’m not a martyr Harry. I’m not a victim of circumstance. I’m not secretly a good man that just needs someone to give them a chance, and stopping me tonight or tomorrow will never cleanse the reality. I am tired, and I just want quiet. The world will not miss me.” He falls to his knees and his hands are shaking, but my voice is steady. “I’ve played my role. I taught my students to the best of my abilities. I did my part to keep you alive. I killed Albus at his order, and I lived to see the dark lord dead and gone. My tasks are all done. I am leaving no one behind. You are strong and capable of protecting yourself now. Minerva will find a replacement for my position, and she is left with plenty of time to fill that role. I am writing my will and sorting my belongings. My body will decompose within hours of drinking the potion, and there will be no body to worry over cremation or burial. I will make sure that no string is left unknotted. All I ask, is that you leave me to my final task. I am tired.”

Tears well in his green eyes and I force myself to not look away. This is not the first time these floors were bathed in salty water. This is not the same man that won the war. He’s a child. Crying and grieving unable to understand. 

“You aren’t suppose to die!” He finally shouts.

“We are all intended to die Harry.” My voice gives away no emotion.

“Not like this!” 

“You cannot stop me.” He looks so small looking up at me. He’s trying to calm himself fruitlessly, and his mouth opens and then shuts as if he’s trying to come to terms with his own thoughts. After what feels like an eternity he speaks again softly barely above a whisper.

“I love you.” I quirk an eyebrow at him unsure if I heard the words correctly. He repeats them louder. “I love you.”

“I did not peg you for one prone to manipulation.”

“It’s not manipulation. I just… I came here to tell you that. Not that but… It’s true. I was going to tell you eventually, I think. I’m not sure. I just wanted to get to know you better without all of the lies and bitterness. It’s true though. I love you.”

“If you are indeed being honest, then you are mistaken. You do not love me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Harry, I have no intention of being a parental replacement. I recognize the strain you have been under at such a young age, but I will not take on another role, much less that of a parental one.”

“I didn’t mean that I loved you like a parent.” He looks at the floor then back up at me. “I meant the other kind.” His face is ashen and his eyes are already turning red from crying. His ears are a shade of pink. “I love you.” He says, even more sure of himself. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. I don’t know if I would have ever told you. Certainly not like this.”

“I don’t know what your intentions are, but it changes nothing.”

“I know.” He says solemnly. Trembling chapped lips pull into a tight smile. “I know it doesn’t, but I had to say it.” Slowly he breathes in and out trying to calm himself. “I can’t change your mind, but I needed to make sure you knew that you will be missed.” He looks so broken. Defeated. “I was so happy when I found out you were loyal to Dumbledore. It hurt so much having you as an enemy! And you were dying, and I was so scared.” His hands pound into the wooden floor, and I’m not sure if he’s even aware of where he is anymore. “I thought you were going to die. I thought I was going to lose you. It didn’t matter if you were an enemy or not, I just wanted to save you. And the war was over and so many people were dead. So many people that I knew and cared about, but I couldn’t stop worrying over you! They wanted to throw you in Azkaban. They wanted you to die. I just wanted you to wake up.” He’s gasping around his panic attack, but I don’t have the right to calm him down. “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if I never get to see you again, I just want to know that you are alive somewhere. Anywhere. Please. Please. Don’t die. I’ll give you as much money as you want, you can move to the states or somewhere quiet where no one will bother you. Buy a little cottage and grow potion ingredients. Read all day. Do only the things you want to do. Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want, just please please don’t kill yourself.”

His arms wrap tightly around himself trying to hold the broken raw emotions in place as he begs me to keep living. His normally pure and hopeful green eyes are puffy and clouded with grief as he’s already mourning me. I’m not adept at combatting this crushing emotion. It’s overwhelming to my normally numb senses.

“Harry, you have to calm down.” Is all I can say. His eyes look at me clouded in anguish and pain.

“How can I calm down when I know you hurt so bad you want to die. Of course it makes me hurt too. I feel like my chest is being stabbed.”

“I.. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You weren’t even suppose to find out until after it was all over.” I don’t like this. My head is pounding in my ears, and my thoughts are to loud. I just want everything to be quiet. It’s to much. Everything is to much!

“You’re crying.” His voice cracks. I don’t cry. I do not cry. Panic fills me when he stands and moves closer. 

“Don’t touch me!” I scream, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

I can’t remember the last time someone embraced me. Was it always this warm. Did it always feels so calming. Safe. 

I’m not sure when we both fell to the ground. Or when he began whispering sweet empty words of encouragement. I’m not sure when I stopped activity pushing him away, or when my hands began fisting his shirt. Or when his fingers began gently combing through my hair.

Or when my mind grew quiet.

I only remember waking up to the sound of Minerva and Harry talking. My body feels sore from the awkward position I fell asleep in. They don’t know I’m awake yet, and the spy in me listens in when I hear my name.

“Severus has already turned down my invitation to return to Hogwarts. I am not as spry as I was in my youth, and he has made it clear that I will not be able to stop him. I’m surprised that you were able to talk him down.

“I wasn’t. He must have just been really exhausted and fallen asleep. I wasn’t meant to know. He only told me because he thought you sent me. He hasn’t changed his mind and neither of us would be able to convince him.”

It’s Minerva’s voice. “I’ve heard that many of the mental institutions are very nice. He’s been through a lot, having professional help could do him good.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It might just do more harm. We can’t stop him forever.”

“Harry, Severus has been through many hardships, he deserves to find happiness.”

“Yes, he does.”

“I procured a place that can take him in. While he’s unconscious, we can transport him there. They can help him. I know that you feel this is wrong, but he needs to be monitored or he will kill himself.”

“I know that, but he’s already had to give up so much for this war. We don’t have the right to lock him up. There has to be another way.”

“We do not have time to find another solution. This is the only option I have been able to find. Yes, he may never forgive us, but it could be the solution that saves him.”

“I can’t.” His hand very gently pets my hair. “I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t throw him in a mental hospital. He needs help. More than either of us can give, but he’s been forced to give up so much already.”

“Then what solution do you have in mind?’

“I don’t. I don’t have a solution in mind. I just want him to have a good night sleep. When he wakes up, I will talk to him again. If we can’t change his mind, then I will help you put him in professional hands.”

“My twenty four hours are up. He won’t feel obligated to postpone anymore. He’s a sweet boy, and he needs help.”

“I know he does. But locking him up when he already feels trapped isn’t the answer. I don’t think it is at least. I’m not going to leave his side though. Not until I’m sure he’s stable.” She exhales. 

“Harry, Severus is like a son to me. I understand to you he may just be a ex-teacher, but Severus is very precious to me. He’s a stubborn mule, and he’s closed off. Honestly, I think he barely tolerates me, but he is precious to me. I’m not above locking him in a mental institution if it could even have a chance of success. But I also worry it would only cause him to close himself off more. He doesn’t talk about his childhood. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve shared a pot of tea, he does not open up and has made it clear he never will. I… regret not seeing through Albus’s plans. I could have helped. I could have made his task easier on him. I was blind though. Even the recruitment when he was a student. I could have prevented it had I been more attentive. Had I not blatantly shown favoritism, maybe he would have trusted me more when he was a student.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past. I’ll stay close to him and keep an eye on him. If he can’t be swayed, then we will go through with your plan. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” She exhales.

“So do I. I will be back this evening. If there is any issue, anything either of you boys need, then do not hesitate to contact me. I will drop whatever I’m doing and come immediately.” Harry strokes my hair softly and promises the meddlesome cat. I hear her leave, and then it’s quiet. He has to be sore from me laying practically on top of him, but he doesn’t try to ‘wake’ me. Even when I hear his stomach growl, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t reposition me. He just holds me like a life line. I don’t want to move. It’s quiet. I don’t hear any explosions or screams. Students are not brawling in the halls. Deatheaters are not parading their targets. No one is being tortured. 

It’s just… quiet. He’s not going to wake me. He’s not going to break the silence. I know this. We could lay like this for the remainder of our lives, and he would not be the one to disturb this peace. So it has to be me.

“I’m hungry.” I say simply.

“Oh! Your awake!” He’s immediately nervous. “If you don’t mind, I could use your kitchen. I’m pretty good at cooking.”

“There isn’t anything in there to cook. I hadn’t planned on being alive at this point- didn’t like the idea of wasting food.”

“Right.” He says slowly. I stand and he follows. “Well, we could go out and get something- it’s nearly lunch time. But maybe you would prefer not going out. Minerva stopped by- we didn’t want to wake you, so she said she would come back tonight.”

“I know. I heard the two of you talking.”

“oh.”

“I’m a light sleeper. It’s doesn’t take much to wake me up.” The silence is thick and awkward. “She wants to put me in a mental institution.” He has enough sense to not deny it.

“She doesn’t want to, but she will. She cares about you, and she doesn’t know how else to help you. Neither of us do. Do you still want to… you know?”

“Yes. I do. I’ve wanted to for a while, and that likely will not change. But I don’t feel as desperate as I did last night. For now, I will put the plan on hold, but I have not changed my mind. I still intend to kill myself.”

“It’s a start at least.” He says through a forced laugh. “Professor McGonagall and I really care about you.”

“That has nothing to do with my decision to postpone my death. Both of you are overly hopeful Gryffindor’s convinced that I have some deeper kindness inside of me, and you both are wrong. I’m the same teacher who bullied you throughout your years of school, or have you forgotten that.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten.” He smiles that same tight smile from last night. “You said yourself that you hate me because you are an asshole. I’m just an idiot that fell in love with you even before I knew you were loyal to Dumbledore.” My face must show my confusion so he continues. “I never intended to confess. The most I ever wanted was to get to know you, maybe as a friend. Really anything. I’m not choosy. I didn’t like you at first. I thought you were a bitter old prat.” He smiles down at his feet. “You never showed me favoritism. You didn’t treat me like the boy who lived. You were harsh, but you also protected me. When I say your memories of my dad bulling you, it opened my eyes. I had only ever seen one side of the story until then. I don’t need to be told that your family was abusive, I could tell from the memories. It changed how I saw you. You weren’t just a one dimensional character anymore. Then I used your old potion book.” He exhales and shakes his head in amazement. “The penmanship was so careful and deliberate. I was obsessed. The spells and changes to the potion instructions- they were incredible. I could see how intelligent the boy who old that book was. He was angry and timid and passionate. Scared and lonely. I didn’t want to admit it. I denied, but I think I knew it was you even before I found out. I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to see you as someone different than the prince, I fell in love with the words, and I recognized the angry slashes on ink. Being harassed and isolated. It doesn’t make what you’ve done acceptable, but I’m not angry. I understand.” I turn my back to him and he follows me step for step.

“I’m going to the loo, and I don’t need a chaperone.” When he doesn’t respond I continue. “Call up Minnie and tell her to bring french toast- and not to forget the honey or the tea I like. In the meantime, I’m not going to off myself.” I look him in the eyes. “I give you my word.” I half expect him to refuse.

“I believe you.” He says with a smile, and he rushes to floocall her. He believes me. With complete trust in his eyes he believed me. 

It feels nice to be trusted. The boy is touched in the head with his insane confession, but I’ll accept it as fact for now. I wash my face of the tear stains. I look more a mess than normal. I have no idea what he sees in this face, but those eyes never back down. 

As for love. I never put much stock in love. I didn’t expect to make it to a point in my life where ‘love’ would matter. I don’t hate the boy. I never did. Love is not an emotion I am overly familiar with though. I want to die. But I do not want him to grieve over me. I do not want to see Harry broken like that again. For now, the plan is postponed. At least until after the French toast. I have little else to live for, but I guess living for French toast and a boy who claims to love me is enough. 

Minerva will bring the good tea. She will lightly tease me in her comforting motherly way. And Harry will continue to watch me with his observant eyes. If it’s for them, then I can hold out a little longer. I’ll have to make sure Harry has found him some other sap to fawn over before I go. And Minerva, well I haven’t chased her away yet, but she can’t live forever anymore than I can. I’ll wait a bit longer. Maybe until they both have passed on themselves. 

My eyes burn from crying the night before and my eyes are bloodshot, but Minnie doesn’t say anything. Instead she pours me a cup of tea and makes herself comfortable. 

“Happy Birthday Severus.” She says with a catlike smile. “I know you do not like gifts, but I took the liberty of buying more of the tea you like. Perhaps a practical gift is tolerable?” I nod slowly accepting the offered cup.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday today.” Harry says.

“I do not enjoy celebrating it.” I say simply. “I typically spend it solitarily.” He smiles wide.

“I’m glad that I was able to be with you are your birthday.”

“Don’t be foolish, it’s just a day, no different than any other.” He shakes his head and Minnie pours honey over my portion of food.

“No, it’s a special day. It’s the anniversary of the day you began existing, and I’m glad that you were born.”

“I very much agree Harry.” Minnie says cheerfully. “You know the tradition Severus, we were with you on your birthday, therefore, you are obligated to join each of us on ours.”

“Yes yes, I will uphold that obligation.” I say rolling my eyes.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She says thoughtfully. Normally the anxiety of knowing that I will live until then is excruciating, but right now it’s nothing more than a dull ache. Maybe it’s because Harry is gently stroking his thumb across my hand with a gentle smile. I’m not sure, but I’m not dreading tomorrow near as much as yesterday. 


End file.
